


The Return of Possibility

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Challenges, F/F, F/M, Healing, Magic, Turok-Han (BtVS), Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Written for the Which Willow Ficathon 2021. Set between season six and seven. Oz learns about what Willow did and goes to her with an unlikely companion in tow. Gifting it to Gabrielle because she got me to participate in this ficathon long ago now and I still miss her!Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.
Relationships: Daniel "Oz" Osbourne/Willow Rosenberg, Spike/Buffy Summers, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	The Return of Possibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gabrielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/gifts).



_Part One_

After his long night run through the forest, Oz finished his transformation from wolf to human at the footsteps of his current home – his paw hitting the first step and shifting from claws to toenails and elongated hairy toes to a practically hairless man foot. The conversion was almost effortless now that he had embraced the wolf as part of who he was. He could change as easily as breathing – an ability that had helped him out on more than one occasion since leaving Sunnydale.

He swept a hand through his longish red hair to clear the damp strands off his face and grabbed the towel slung over the porch railing. He gave his face a quick rub to free it of sweat and neatly wrapped the cloth around his waist, not that he needed to hide his nakedness. “Hey. Long time no see.”

The rocking chair let out a soft creek as Oz’s guest emerged from the shadows – his face only partially illuminated by the lamp Oz had left on inside to guide his way home. “I know.” 

“You only come if – ” Oz had known the man for almost three years; they’d been companions in Oz’s quest for control – a control he’d learned hadn’t been quite as simple as he’d hoped. 

“I sense things.” His friend sometimes knew things before they happened. 

“Right.” Oz climbed the steps to at least be on the same level as the taller man. “Want some tea? I was just gonna – ”

“No.” The syllable was soft but emphatic. “I must go after imparting the message.”

Oz knew better than to question this. “Okay.” He crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”

“Your lady. She’s in trouble.” His friend delivered this message with little urgency as always, which was par for the course with him.

“Willow.” Oz’s heart thumped in his chest – the emotion he always associated with Willow filling his heart. “What’s happened?”

“Something happened. She did something in response. Almost destroyed the world. You must have known.” 

“I felt the rumblings.” A lot of the supernatural world had, but they’d passed like thunder rolling in and out across the sky. But Oz had had no idea they had anything to do with Willow. “But she didn’t.” The world was still here.

“She needs you now. The world needs you now.”

The corner of Oz’s mouth lifted in his anxiety. “The world?”

“Something’s coming.” There was the rustle of a bit of paper – the only sign that his friend was nervous, too. “Read this. It has all the information you need to know on what is known at this time.”

“Cryptic much?” Oz accepted and unfolded the paper to see his friend’s familiar handwriting; it was too dark to read it now.

His friend emitted an indignant breath. “You know I get what I get. There’s an address.”

Oz nodded his head once. “Got it.”

“Walk me to the car.” His friend inclined his head toward the back of the house. 

“Interesting choice.” 

His friend’s eyes flashed a brief golden color in the darkness, and he let out of growl of amusement. “Not all of us have your stamina.”

“Huh.” Oz narrowed his eyes. His friend ran just as far and long as any other werewolf he knew. “What’s in the car?”

“Someone you know. A vampire. He just showed up about the same time I learned about the woman you love.”

Oz fought the urge to run into the house for a stake. He always kept some on hand – old Sunnydale habits die hard. “You drove with a vampire in the car?”

“He has a soul.”

“Angel?” What would Angel be doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?

“He didn’t tell me his name. Just showed up, muttering nonsensical stuff. He didn’t seem all that capable of harming more than himself.” 

Oz didn’t ask more questions. He strode around the house to the car parked there – still radiating warmth from the drive. Glimpsing a figure in the back seat, Oz flung open the door as his friend strolled up behind him. 

The vampire shrank in on himself as if the interior car light was the sun, but the slight build, shock of white blonde hair, and leather duster told Oz exactly who it was. 

Oz’s mouth didn’t even twitch with the shock he was feeling. “Spike?” Spike didn’t make a sound, and Oz slammed the door shut. “Huh. He has a soul?” 

“Apparently. Earned it in trials with a cave dweller. Grab your bag,” his friend said, knowing Oz always kept a packed one ready. He dangled the keys in front of Oz’s face.

Oz took them slowly. “You’re not coming with.” It wasn’t a question.

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll hang out here.” There was no “until you return” tacked on the end of his friend’s statement. 

In that moment, Oz knew. He wasn’t coming back to Africa; his peaceful place of isolation was no more. “Take care of it for me.” 

* * * 

The flight from Johannesburg to London had been long and cramped – not the freedom Oz was used to. The man next to him snored the entire flight after drinking several cocktails from the airplane bar. Oz had managed to find a way to meditate through the sound for a while until he became too exhausted to try. 

Oz was grateful he wasn’t a vampire though. He had no idea how Spike had managed to survive in the belly of the plane. 

All Oz knew was that Spike had shown up at the car rental place listed on the page his friend had given him. Somehow, the vampire was more together than in Africa with his shoulders straight and his hair adjusted. There was no more skulking and looking like he might curl up into a fetal position on the floor. 

“Where’re we headed?” Spike asked almost a bit too evenly as he held his arms in such a way that hinted at his vulnerability. 

Oz adjusted his overnight bag on his shoulder, pulling out the paper he’d been given. “Here.”

Spike glanced around at the various rental car company signs. “This one over here is the one we want.” He started toward one of them. 

“The one with our paid reservation,” Oz said, keeping up. 

“Right, right.” Spike angled the other direction, landing them at the correct place.

“May I help you?” a petite woman with long blonde hair asked from behind the desk. 

“We have a paid reservation,” Spike echoed, leaning on the desk and looking a bit like he was teetering on the brink of a spiral into chaos again.

Oz took charge, sliding the paper to the woman. “Here.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, smiling and then gazing at her computer screen and typing. “It’ll be a minute.”

Oz guided Spike off to the side. “What’s up with you?”

Spike gave him crazy-eye. “I have a soul now. Duh.” 

“But why?” Oz couldn’t put two-and-two together. Last he knew, Spike was newly chipped and being a pain for Willow and her friends. 

Spike closed his eyes and put a hand that turned into a fist on the wall. “Because I screwed everything up.”

“What do you mean?”

“With _her_.”

“Sir?” chirped the woman. “What kind of auto would you like?” 

* * *

The fastest route from London to Westbury was a little over two hours, and it was night time, so that was perfect for driving with a vampire. Oz surprised Spike by easily taking to driving on the left side of the road. Oz missed his van sometimes, and driving the rental made him sentimental. 

Spike was still strangely quiet – not at all the arrogant, showy vampire Oz remembered. The soul was doing something to Spike, but Oz wasn’t sure what. He remembered how much the wolf had changed him – how he’d lost himself as the wolf took control and how he’d found himself again after he left Sunnydale. He supposed he’d gotten in touch with his soul – the heart of who he was again. The same old Oz but also forever different. 

At a particularly quiet part of the road, Oz turned down the radio. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s ‘her’?” 

Spike shifted uncomfortably in his seat, almost like he was unsure where to put his arms and legs. He cleared his throat and almost whispered, “Buffy. . . she, her is Buffy.”

Oz had to ask. “Screwed things up as in. . . ?”

“We, uh, me and Buffy had a. . . relationship – ” The vampire visibly flinched and self-corrected. “Not really. We weren’t together. We, she didn’t want me, us that way. But she did. . . for a time.”

Oz had no idea how Buffy and Spike had ended up as a couple, but if that was any indication of what had happened in Sunnydale, Oz knew things had gone haywire. The conversation was putting Spike bavk on edge, so Oz didn’t push further down the path of inquiry. He didn’t have to have all the questions answered. Not yet. “I’ve done that.”

The statement seemed to ground the increasingly agitated Spike who settled, focusing on Oz. “You have?” Oz glanced over to see Spike frowning as they passed a street light. “Oh, yes. Cheated on your girl.”

“Yeah. Lost her for good.” Oz tried not to think about the aching loss of Willow and the regret he had at not being able to be what she needed him to be at the time. 

“Suppose you also understand the moving heaven and earth bit, too, eh?” Somehow Spike knew about Oz’s changes. Whether he overheard the Scoobies talking about it or could sense it now, Oz didn’t know. 

“You love Buffy.” Oz knew; he didn’t need to ask now.

“You love Red.”

The pair drove on for several minutes in more comfortable silence with their mutual understanding. Oz sipped some caffeinated tea to stay awake, and Spike stared out the window. 

As the countryside rolled by in the darkness, Oz wished he could see it. This was his first time in England, and Willow had often joked about coming here to visit Giles’s old stomping grounds and check out colleges even if she’d never attend here. Oz had often talked about coming with her – less in a joking way and more in a seriously-in-love-with-Willow way. Now, he wished he could see what she had probably seen. 

“Any idea what Willow did?” Oz finally asked. 

Spike was silent for so long that Oz considered that he might be asleep. Oz was settling into the beat of a fresh tune on the radio when Spike said, “She brought Buffy back from the dead. And she was fighting with her use of magic. My guess? It has something to do with that.”

Oz let the magnitude of what Spike said sink in. His only outward reaction was a slight lift of his shoulders. Then, “Buffy died?”

“And rose again. That’s what the good ones do,” Spike said in an almost singsong-y voice. 

Not realizing he was holding his breath, Oz forced himself to breathe out. “And Willow brought her back.”

Spike shifted in the seat, staring out the window into the inky blackness that was night. “Yeah. Going against all the laws of magic. There was a repercussion.”

“What repercussion?” 

“Buffy was in heaven. Or a form thereof.” 

Oz tried to fathom what this meant and knew that his mind could never truly comprehend what that meant. “So, coming back here was. . . hell?”  
Spike flinched at this and turned the focus back to Willow. “Red. . . she was using magic all willy nilly. Made it seem like a bloody addiction. But it was really misuse of power. Painted herself into a corner. Got her in trouble with her lovely dove.”

“Then, what’s she doing here?” Something wasn’t adding up in Oz’s mind. 

Spike shrugged. “Hell if I know.” 

“Huh.” 

“What are either of us doing here?” Spike settled back down into the chair, his knees going toward the glove compartment. He started mumbling to himself so low that Oz couldn’t make out the words.

“What’d you say?” Oz asked, slipping on the nonchalance as easily as if he was focusing on his breath. 

Spike continued to mutter the same cadence of words so softly that Oz couldn’t make sense out of them even with his wolfie senses. Spike fidgeted as if he was going to leap out the door to escape. Then, without warning, he stilled. 

With a calm turn of the head, he said clear as day, “From beneath you, it devours.”

Not much scared Oz, but his blood ran cold at Spike’s words and the shift in volume and tone. His words weren’t edged with insanity. They were the final statement on the sheet of paper that his friend had passed to Oz. His brain scrambled to figure out whether he had shown Spike, and after a few run-throughs, Oz realized that he hadn’t. The paper was safely tucked in the wallet in his back pocket.

* * *

_Part Two_

Willow squeezed her eyes shut and sat in the position the witches had taught her would help her center herself. But no amount of proper posture and lack of visual cues helped her focus.

She was supposed to be focusing. Damn it.

Every time she let down her guard though, the image of Tara’s bloody shirt and Warren’s skinless body filled Willow’s mind. And then, she became a sobbing, panicky, inconsolable mess. Even the thought of panicking made her heart rate increase and her palms start to sweat. 

So, she slit her eyes. She was still in England with the Devon coven, and currently, she was in the pink tent with its twinkling warm fairy lights, softest of pillows, and a candle that smelled like baking when she was little. All in all, the space was small and comforting and supposedly meditation inducing, but no dice. 

Being here was too surreal. She was supposed to be in Sunnydale, hunkering down in Buffy’s mom’s old room with Tara, studying for summer semester finals between rounds of lovemaking. 

A tear slipped over Willow’s cheek, and she imagined Tara brushing the tear away and kissing the spot where it ended. 

Willow bit the inside of her cheek hard and was rewarded with a spark of pain that brought her back to the reality of the pink tent. 

Dragging a particularly soft pillow into her lap, Willow wondered how long she would have to pretend to be centering herself when centering herself felt impossible.

As if in response to her wish, the flap of the tent rustled, and Willow peered back over her shoulder to see Miss Harkness’s head peek inside. 

The older woman’s hair was pulled up in her usual bun and her makeup was neatly done; she reminded Willow of slightly plumper Mary Poppins though she’d never tell her that. Usually, Miss Harkness was calm and impervious to stress, but there was something about her blue eyes that told Willow something was going on. Miss Harkness would never interrupt one of these sessions. 

“So sorry to interrupt, dear.” Miss Harkness was firm, but she was also kind, always calling Willow terms of endearment. She wished that her own mother had been so genuinely compassionate. 

“Oh, it’s no biggie. Really,” Willow said, trying not to sound too eager as she turned further around. 

“You have visitors.” Miss Harkness sounded amused.

“In the middle of the night?” Giles was the only one who visited, and he came during the day. He could only handle brief stays because he was still recovering from his injuries – something else Willow felt terrible about.

“They’ve travelled here from South Africa.”

Willow frowned. She didn’t know anyone from South Africa. “Who?”

Miss Harness backed out of the tent, her voice carrying behind her. “Follow me.”

Without hesitation, Willow ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her shoulders, and left behind her grief for now. 

The night air was edged with cool air from a light breeze, and the moon and stars were bright in the inky sky above. The tent was really in the middle of nowhere away from the homes the coven lived in. Already berating herself for forgetting her sweater, Willow rubbed her arms and hurried to catch up to Miss Harkness as she headed toward the main building. 

After several minutes, Willow put her hand on the edge of the door that Miss Harkness held open for her. Willow felt the warmth of the back room touch the crisp coolness on her cheeks. “Thanks.”

Miss Harness bowed her head slightly. “You’re welcome. Your guests are waiting in the lobby.” 

Finding new energy, Willow rushed down the narrow hallway. She tried not to think too hard, and when she burst into the front room with its high ceilings, gauzy curtains, and large windows that let in beautiful morning light, she stopped short. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

Oz was sitting on the sofa directly across from her with anticipation on his face. His hair was longer than she’d ever seen in, and she could tell from his frame that his muscles were bigger. His face was kissed with a slight burn from the sun; he’d always been a stickler with sunscreen, so that was new. But his eyes were the same – kind and blue and full of love for her. He rose to his feet as she entered. 

“Hey,” he said first.

“Oz,” she breathed, feeling relief from her pain for the first time in weeks. 

She crossed the gulf between them in a heartbeat, and she threw her arms around his neck. His arms went solidly around her much to her relief, and she inhaled his familiar scent. He was familiar and steady and. . . home. The tears she’d successfully thwarted earlier now came in a cascade down her cheeks so fast that she couldn’t even sob. Oz rubbed her back gently in soothing strokes.

Then, he whispered, “Breathe.”

She did as he suggested, trying to go slow and not gasp from her lack of air. He continued to hold her as she managed her breathing. Then, he drew back.

“What are you doing here?” Willow wiped her eyes and settled back into the reality that now even Oz would know what a colossal failure she was. 

“Heard you needed. . . were. . . ” Now, Oz seemed uncertain. 

Willow rescued him with, “I’m so glad you’re here. You have to stay a while, and – ” She glimpsed a flash of white blonde hair and a familiar figure dressed in black hovering behind him close to the exit. “Spike?” A million feelings flooded her. She knew what he’d done – what had gone on between him and Buffy. He’d left town. And now? His face was drawn, and something about the way he held himself told her that he’d been through something big. 

Miss Harkness cleared her throat. “We don’t normally accommodate vampires. Or werewolves.”

Spike didn’t even meet her gaze and turned toward the door. “I’ll just go.”

“No!” Oz said. 

Spike stopped, his hands going to his head as if he was a toddler who had been scolded for taking a cookie from the cookie jar.

Willow gave her ex a confused look. “What’s going on?”

Oz hesitated, eyes flicking to Miss Harkness and back to Willow. “Something important.”

Feeling confident about one thing at least, Willow said, “They can stay with me. In my cabin.”

“For 24 hours,” Miss Harkness allowed. “You have your assessments coming up.” 

“24 hours,” Willow agreed. Even though the evaluation was weeks away, she was so going to fail her exams for the first time in well. . . ever. 

* * *

Draping a blanket over Spike, Willow gave him a small smile. She couldn’t be angry with him about Buffy until he was a little less loopy and vulnerable. He drew his legs up and closed his eyes.

Then, she headed toward the bedroom where Oz waited for her. He looked at her, and she wanted to be in his arms again. She felt safe there; she always had. 

Instead, she threw up an awkward thumb to gesture back behind her. “I-I can’t believe he has a soul now.” 

“It’s not exactly expected,” Oz admitted, not moving his hands from his jacket pocket. 

“Or that he earned it.” 

“And he’s been in touch with something. . . metaphysical since then.”

“The guilt of going on a murderous rampage for decades?” Willow had no room to judge – not anymore, so she stopped with her rhetorical question.  
“No, about what’s coming.” Oz sounded uncertain in his certainty. It was a subtle difference, and one only Willow would recognize. “But that’s for another time.”

“You only have 24 hours,” Willow joked. Then, he would leave. 

An awkward silence fell over them. Willow studied the floor, waiting for Oz to denounce her. Surely, he was here because he knew what she’d done. Of all the things she’d done, killing the man who killed Tara, almost killing her friends, almost destroying the world. . . these were the worst. Willow just wanted to sink through the floor with the amount of well-deserved shame covering her. 

“I’m not here to condemn you,” Oz said abruptly or as abruptly as Oz was ever abrupt

Willow’s eyes brimmed with tears so that her vision was completely blurry. Her hands went to her elbows, and she bent a little from the weight of emotion. “Oh.” The tears fell.

Oz took a step toward her. “In case you don’t remember, I killed a woman.” 

“In defense of me,” Willow protested, sniffling in an ill-fated attempt to suck the fluid back into her head. “It’s different. What I did is different.”

“I’m sure it’s – ”

“Tara’s dead,” she said with an edge of hysteria. 

Oz studied what Willow assumed was her miserable face. Then, he concluded, “You didn’t kill her.”

Willow shook her head shakily and bowed her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “N-no. But I did kill who did.”

Oz didn’t say anything right away but didn’t wait too long to guess, “Human by the way you’re acting.”

Willow nodded but still couldn’t lift her head. Why was he being so nice? She didn’t deserve kindness. “A-and there’s more.” 

“Heard about that, too.” Oz was closer. Willow’s legs were jelly; she couldn’t run away if she tried. “I felt it.”

Willow felt surprise jolt through her. He felt it? “Me almost ending the world?” Oh, god. 

Oz’s fingers ran over the skin on her arm, and she let out a little sob. He was touching her again. She didn’t deserve to be touched. Not again. Not by someone she loved, not since Xander on the cliff. Oz didn’t go away. Instead, he persisted, taking one of her hands and prying it gently loose. When he started to gather her up in her arms, she resisted, pushing him back. 

“Wait. I-I don’t want to confuse you.” She couldn’t hurt Oz – not again. It didn’t matter that he’d cheated on her with Veruca, it didn’t matter that he’d gone away to control his wolf only to come back and find Willow’s heart with someone else, and it didn’t matter that he’d continued growing after she’d rejected him. Oz was hers. He would always be hers, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to have him. Not yet. He deserved more. 

He reached up and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’m not confused.”

“You’re not?” Because Willow was a whole well-full-of-water confused. 

“I’m here for you. I don’t need anything except to know that you’re okay.” He sounded so perfectly sincere as he always did.

“O-okay.” 

This time, the hug was less full of the rush of reunion, and there was the space to find release because she wasn’t holding her breath anymore. This hug was a far cry from her embrace with Xander. That one had been accompanied by gasping sobs, pounding fists, and wild fluctuation of magic coursing through her body. This time, she breathed in and out in an even, slow motion, her heart beating in a steady rhythm against Oz's – magnified by the magic rising up inside her. She hadn’t felt the magic move within her since she’d arrived at the coven. She’d walled it off, and now, here with Oz, she was letting her guard down, letting the magic flow forth again. She was going to be okay. 

“Do you feel it?” she whispered.

There was a slight pause, and Oz nudged his forehead against hers, returning the whisper. “I do.” 

* * *

Willow faced the five witches who made decisions for the coven. She hadn’t felt confident when she met with them the first time, but with Oz and Spike showing up, she was certain. “I think they should stay.” 

Ms. Baker shook her head. “I don’t know.” She was the oldest and strictest of the bunch. “You know the rules. No help of any kind on the type of journey you need to make.”

Willow looked to her right at Giles, who had an arm full of books that contained what little information he’d been able to uncover about what Oz’s friend had said and what Spike had hinted at in his soul-fueled madness. 

Giles pressed his lips together after meeting her gaze and then addressed the women. “Since Willow arrived, the situation has changed rather dramatically. A-and I think if you take a look at what I’ve found, you’ll see that a shift in protocol would be prudent. And necessary.” 

“We don’t allow vampires or werewolves into our sanctuary,” Ms. Baker repeated, her glasses slipping to the end of her nose. “The short foray in that direction should never have been permitted.”

“Then, maybe we should leave,” Willow said, standing her ground with Oz and Giles by her side. 

The youngest witch, Miss Poppy, scanned the group and then shifted in her chair to face her fellow witches. Willow had seen Miss Poppy around the coven grounds enough to know that she wasn’t the most self-confident. “We should consider what they’re saying. What if this impacts the whole world? What if we could do something to help?”

Miss Harkness took this in and then focused on Willow. “You haven’t made any progress with the magic. The meditations, the exercises.”

Willow’s cheeks flushed with the exposure. She hadn’t realized Miss Harkness knew, but of course, she did. But then, she remembered the night before. . . the moment with Oz. “I have, actually. Last night.” She gave Giles a brief glance. “Before I called Giles.”

With a shake of her head, Miss Harkness said, “You cannot rely on someone else to do your work.” 

Willow had never cheated on anything in her life. Well, expect for with her misuse of magic. That was a pretty big cheat. Still. “I won’t rely on him.”

Oz cleared his throat. “I won’t let her. I’ll be there to support her, but I won’t step in. Not the way you think. I-I’d actually like to collaborate with you.”

Miss Harkness looked down her nose at him. “Willow is lucky to have so many people who love her.”

Willow swallowed. She knew that was true. She also knew someone else who needed vouching for. “Spike needs sanctuary, too. Just as much as me.” She heard Spike shift in the background. “He has a soul now. One he got on his own. I think, if anything, he’s earned a respite.” 

“That is most unusual,” Miss Harkness said, “but I’ll allow it.”

“Miss Harkness!” Ms. Baker protested, sitting up in her seat. 

“We’ll vote on it. All in favor? Show of hands.” 

Miss Harkness raised her hand as did Miss Poppy. The other two witches slowly joined them, neatly outnumbering Ms. Baker. 

With a smile, Miss Harkness folded both hands on the table in front of her and addressed Willow. “They may stay. However, they must room in a separate space from you.”

Willow grinned. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

* * *

_Part Three, Two months later_

Willow heard a short knock. “Feeling ready?” 

Willow stopped mid-hair-brush-ing and peered over her shoulder at Spike who was leaning on the doorframe. She was struck by how far he’d come in such a short time. He wasn’t speaking in gibberish or cowering with the weight of his murderous past, and he’d even won over a witch or two who had helped him with his soul transition – not taking his guilt but easing the pain so he could cope. And in being struck by Spike’s progress, she was surprised by how far she’d come, too. There were no more sob-fests. Well, they weren’t a daily occurrence anymore. 

“I take it by the long stare that maybe you’re not?” Spike asked with some concern. He’d always noticed things, but she wasn’t sure when he started caring for anyone but Buffy, Dawn, and Joyce.

She continued brushing her hair. “I was actually thinking about how far we’ve both come.” 

Spike scoffed good-naturedly. “We’ve both got a ways to go.”

“I know,” Willow admitted, slipping an earring through her left earlobe. “But we should also celebrate our successes along the way.” 

“And you need to stay positive.” 

“For the evaluation.” Her stomach did a flip and churned as it finished. “Have you talked with Buffy?”

With Spike’s reluctant permission, Willow had told Buffy that Spike had a soul – had fought for one for her after what Spike had done in her bathroom. Buffy had needed time at first. She’d taken at least a month before she’d reached out to Willow after patrol one evening, having completely forgotten about the time zone difference. (Willow thought that meant Buffy was really trying to figure things out.) She’d asked to speak with Spike, and they’d spoken briefly – maybe five minutes if that. Willow had then been the go-between for them both. Spike had allowed Buffy to reach out each time, and as time had passed, their conversations had gotten longer and more frequent until Spike broke down and asked Willow about a cell phone, which she had then asked Giles about. 

Spike pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Ran out of minutes.” Giles, not exactly amused by the prospect of Spike and Buffy’s communications, had purchased Spike the cheapest, bottom-of-the-barrel phone with restricted minutes and none of the latest features.

“Oh.” Willow adjusted the backs of earrings and her hair.

“But she knows I’m flying with you and Oz.”

Willow breathed out a sigh of relief. “How’d she take it?”

“Dunno. Got this bloody soul, and it’s like I can’t read her anymore. I used to be able to tell.” He closed his eyes and flinched, briefly angling his head. His voice lowered to a whisper. “That’s not exactly true though.” 

Willow slipped a billowy orange blouse over her black cami – stereotypical witch-y colors. “I think both of you did not-so-great things to each other. It’s no wonder your signals got all crossed up.” 

Spike’s reaction was swift. “It’s not an excuse for what happened.” 

“And you have to let her own her piece. You can’t own it all, and you have to forgive yourself. You said Buffy has already forgiven you.” 

Spike stared at the ground. “She said the words. Well, not in so many words, but I know Buffy and. . .” He sighed. “But I don’t feel it yet. I can’t access that feeling. Speaking of self-forgiveness. . . ” 

Willow bit her lip and leaned back against the granite countertop, thinking for a moment. She couldn’t exactly take her own advice yet. “It’s a process, right?”

“Right.”

Willow’s eyes caught movement through the window outside, and she focused briefly on the two figures coming up the path toward her cabin. Spike, of course, noticed and twisted around to see what she was seeing. When he saw who Willow saw, he stumbled and moved into the bathroom, almost like he was hiding. She would have laughed to see the self-proclaimed Big Bad Spike cowering away, but she knew what it was like to feel so naked and vulnerable. 

She touched his elbow, and he jerked away in his anxiety. Still, she persisted, “Hey. She wanted to come. For me.”

Spike nodded, staring into the distance. “Makes sense.” He gave her side eye. “You and the wolf?”

“You’ve seen us. We’re not exactly at the Barry-White-cozy-fire kind of place yet.” Willow wasn’t sure if she even wanted that. “I need to focus on healing me first. It’s only fair to Oz.”

Spike leaned against the door so that it hit the door jam. “And to you.”

Willow lips turned up in a smile just as the doorbell rang. “I’ll go first. Take one for the team.” Truth be told, she was nervous to face Buffy after everything that had happened in Sunnydale. It was definitely easier to be brave for someone else than herself.

Relief poured over Spike’s face, solidifying her decision. “Thanks.”

With purpose, Willow marched toward the door and opened it just as Buffy was lifting a hand to knock. She squinted at Willow in the bright morning sun. Then, Buffy dropped her bag with a weighty thump and embraced Willow. 

Hugging her friend in return, Willow said with more brightness than she intended. “Nice to see you, too.” 

“I love you, Willow,” Buffy whispered, and with those four words, Willow was forgiven. 

She tried not to overthink it as Oz smiled at her from behind Buffy. “I love you, too.” 

Oz tilted his head at that, his smiling growing ever so slightly. He bent to scoop up Buffy’s duffel and then moved around the women. 

Buffy looked pensive when the hug ended. She held her hand up over her eyes and tried to peer into the cabin. Still, she avoided what Willow knew she probably wanted to ask. “Are you nervous about today?”

Willow nodded. “Yeah. Not gonna lie. I’m like a duck. Smooth and calm above the water, but my feet are paddling madly below the surface where no one can see.”

Buffy gently squeezed Willow’s arm. “Well, I believe in you. A thousand percent. And I’m here to cheer you on. With Oz and Giles and. . . ” 

Willow felt a burst of defensive energy she never thought she’d associate with Spike. “He earned a soul. For you. What he did was horrific. He knows it. And he’s been working really hard to. . . but I’ll also hate him for you if you need me to.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Buffy interrupted.

“Do what?” Willow asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Defend Spike. I. . . um, it’s complicated. Him and me. And. . . well, if I’m being honest, I’m petrified to see him. Never thought I’d say that about Spike.”

“Of all people,” Willow added half-teasingly, half-with-the-support.

“Yeah.”

“Things are complicated for me and you, too, and you still forgave me.” 

Buffy’s eyes moved to the side with her emotion. “We all did stupid stuff last year.” 

“More than stupid.” Willow swallowed. She knew she had more to say about last year and what happened with Rack and Warren, but that needed to wait. She needed to focus on her evals. “Spike said you guys have been talking.”

Buffy evaded by tossing the tennis ball back to Willow. “Oz said the two of you have, too.”

“Yeah. We’re not. . . I’m not ready for. . . ” Willow didn’t know how to finish the thought.

“Same here,” Buffy said quickly. Then, she glanced down at her feet and held her arms close. “But maybe. There’s still something.”

Willow understood completely. “Let’s go inside. Rip the Band-Aid off.”

“Okay.” Buffy linked arms with Willow like they used to do walking down the halls of Sunnydale High.

Together, they stepped across the threshold and discovered Spike standing there waiting, unable to look Buffy in the eye but standing there just the same. Oz appeared in the doorway to the guest room and waited as Buffy took in Spike’s presence. The silence was pregnant with meaning as neither of them spoke.

Then, Buffy broke free of Willow and went to him. After a moment of hesitation, she gathered him into her arms, and he sagged against her as he uncertainly held her in return. Willow caught the hint of tears on his cheeks.

“Hi,” Buffy whispered. 

“Hi, pet,” Spike returned. “I d-don’t deserve – ”

Buffy didn’t stiffen or draw him closer. Willow considered that that was all Buffy could do right now. Instead, she said, “If you need forgiveness, you have mine.” 

* * *

“I have every confidence in you,” Giles said.

“I’m glad you do.” Willow knew she sounded more confident than she felt inside.

Willow didn’t remove her gaze from the expansive field rolled out before her. If she focused hard, she could see a line of trees far in the distance with makeshift stands as if she was performing in the marching band on a football field. The stands were carefully covered by a protective covering, which had been added at the last minute by Miss Poppy so that Spike could attend along with Buffy, Oz, and all the witches in the coven. 

“They will throw things at you to test your new skills, and those challenges will be difficult and potentially painful. But the true test will be when you leave the safety of the coven and return home,” Giles noted with his usual air of gentle authority.

Willow was surprised. “Have you been through something like this before?”

“Of a sort.” Giles had been through something like this when he left behind his own misuse of power. Willow kept forgetting. Just because he hadn’t almost destroyed the world didn’t mean he didn’t get what she was going through. 

She sighed. “So all this is ceremonial?” 

“Mostly.” There was a trace of amusement in his tone.

“You’re coming back with me. . . with us?” She’d been too nervous to ask him before, and standing here at the precipice pushed her to go ahead with the asking. 

“Not yet. There are a few other resources I want to gather first.” 

Willow felt her stomach clench with anxiety. “But you’re here now.”

Without fanfare, the sound of a gong being played rang out over the field – the signal that her test was about to start. Fear gripped her heart, and she found Giles’s eyes. He gave her a half-smile and a brief bow before stepping back and away without another word. 

Willow didn’t exactly know what the goal was. All she knew was that she would face challenges in the field – the brilliant green field with birds singing and the sun shining down with its brilliance and warmth. Nothing could happen here, right? Her heart was lodged in her throat, and the magic unfurled inside her, waking with her permission as the last of the gong melody faded away. 

She took a tentative step, and nothing happened other than the sound of her boot crunching blades of grass. She continued a few more steps, half-tempted to wave at her friends.

Then, without warning, the world went dark. The birds ceased their melody, the sun winked out, and Willow was completely and utterly alone. The stands in the distance were gone, and she knew without looking that Giles was no longer behind her. A heaviness settled onto her chest, and the magic inside her wove its way up to her heart where it twined around the center of her feelings, holding on tight. 

A hand touched Willow’s shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin. When she looked over, the hand was glowing with a low light. Recognizing the hand, she drew a sharp breath and whirled to face. . . “Tara,” she whispered. 

Dropping her arm, Tara smiled at her with that serene smile she often had on her face after they made love, her eyes soft with love for Willow. “Hi.” 

“H-hi.” Willow felt hope edging its way to the forefront. 

But before she could grasp onto it, she saw a dark liquid billowing forth from Tara’s abdomen and pouring down her body – much more than before. Tara’s gaze was unwavering, and she didn’t seem shocked. On the contrary, she seemed resigned. 

And when Willow discovered her voice didn’t work and her whole body was frozen in place, Tara spoke instead. “This isn’t your fault, you know. You aren’t responsible for my – ”

Tears slipped over Willow’s cheeks as Tara collapsed lifeless on the ground. Willow fell to her knees on the carpet at Tara’s side, and the magic inside of her roused hard and fast. “No. No, no, no, no, no!” 

Willow ripped at the hem of her shirt, determined to try to staunch the bleeding and fighting against the urge to call on the magic that was throwing itself at her insides, demanding to be used. 

With trembling hands, Willow brought the cloth to Tara’s body. Only Tara’s body wasn’t there anymore; she had vanished into thin air. With Willow’s grief zipping through her body in her confusion, she blinked at her clean hands. She hadn’t even had the chance to help Tara, which was massively unfair. There was only a moment, and she was gone. 

Choking on her emotions, Willow staggered to her feet, something sharp cutting the palm of her hand. She gazed down, blinking rapidly. There in her hands was not a blade but a photo – the edge having dragged against her skin. Bile rose up the back of her throat when she realized who was in the picture. 

Warren. 

A small fire blazed in the corner of her eye – a magically-charged green flame on a bed of logs. Familiar hatred cascaded over her, and she crumpled the photo of the man who had killed the woman she loved – loves still and for always. Words from the spell Willow had almost used to break Oz’s heart slipped past her lips before she could stop them. All she had to do was fling the photo into the flame once she finished the spell, and Warren would never love again. 

She glimpsed the image on the photo before she incinerated it. A young boy peered back at her with wide eyes and an impish smile. She flipped it to the back and scrawled handwriting reads, “Warren Mears – first grade.” 

And then, she couldn’t burn it. He was a baby. Surely he was innocent back then. She was innocent back then.

A bitter, angry voice bit her from the darkness. “Can’t do it, can you, Willow? Your feelings are your weakness. They’ll destroy you in the end.” 

Willow pivoted to see adult Warren melt forth from the black with a sneer on his lips – the same lips she’d sewn up before she’d penetrated his body with a bullet. 

But she wasn’t that Willow anymore. She took a stumbling step back as he approached her. The fire burned bright behind her, playing with the shadows on his face. The magic shifted in her belly, whispering for her to do it again. . . to flay him alive. He deserved it. 

He advanced rapidly until Willow tripped again in her efforts to move away, and then, he backhanded her so hard that she cried out from the pain and stars filled her vision. She stayed on the pine-needle-covered ground, trying to absorb what was happening.

“You see? Even now, you can’t do it. You thought I deserved it before. Why can’t you do it again? Give in to the pain. You know you want to drown in it. When have you ever been so powerful?” He kicked her then, landing a blow to her ribs.

The magic inside her pushed to take over, to be released as before, to punish him, but there was something in the back of her mind. This wasn’t real, was it? Her brain took the opening she’d made with that one thought, and she pushed the heavy doors open with all her strength. 

Oz had taught her to make space for herself in the pain and cloak of magic – to find that place that the magic couldn’t touch. He said if he could carve out one small space for himself, he could control the wolf in the full moon, he could control when and how and for how long the wolf emerged. And she could control the magic, not the other way around. Part of it was the desire to control the magic and not give in to it. The will had to be there, and she was nothing if not full of resolute willfulness.

These thoughts passed through Willow’s mind in an instant. As Warren’s leg swung at her a second time, she flicked a finger, and a golden-green lasso of light wrapped itself around his ankle and gave a sharp tug. 

Warren laughed as his body came tumbling down, and he shouted, “I’ll be back for you. You can’t escape what you’ve done.” Then, he burst into a shower of bright red sparks that winked out when they touched the earth. 

Willow took a moment to allow for the dizziness to pass, and then, she pushed herself onto her feet, which slipped and slid in something slick. Because she was in complete darkness again, she willed her tiny green light friend to appear, and she brightened it until she could see that she was standing on some sort of large metal circle with intricate carvings covering the surface. The liquid beneath her feet was dark and flowing from some unseen source. There was so much of it that she could practically taste the coppery scent in the air. 

This was blood. She was standing in blood. 

Before she could decide what to do, she heard a soft scratching noise. She strained her ears, trying to make sense of the sound, and the noise increased in volume, sounding as if it was coming from all around her under the earth. 

She suddenly wanted to be off of the bloody circle, and she clambered to get back onto the dirt. As she did so, a hand burst out of the ground – a large, pale hand with long, dirt-caked claws that nipped at her ankle. 

Trembling with fear, she jumped away, and another hand grabbed at her from behind but missed by a hair’s width. 

Something growled behind her – a menacing growl. 

The ground started to mound up in little hills all around her. She glimpsed a form in the distance – hulking and huge with glowing yellow eyes. 

Oh, god. What was this? She was surrounded. 

Panic propelling her forward, she began to run, dodging the tiny mountains and the grasping hands and the glinting, sharp teeth. 

For several minutes, she managed to evade capture until she didn’t, and she was ripped to the ground by an emerging vampire-like monster. Not that real vampires weren’t scary, but this was. . . 

She felt the creature dragging her toward it, and she felt its weight land on her as it extricated itself from the earth. Its breath was foul like rotten meat, and sharp teeth scraped along the flesh of her neck as if it didn’t know where to find a vein. 

She closed her eyes, trying to access her magic around the fear and lack of oxygen. She imagined drawing magma up from the earth to fling at it, but before she could force something – anything to happen, her body was suddenly free of the crushing figure. 

She gasped, and sunlight flooded her vision. 

Spike squatted before her, holding a large umbrella to prevent combustion. His face was human and deadly earnest in an almost disembodied way. “From beneath you, it devours.” 

Willow saw Buffy staring at Spike with a perplexed expression on her face. 

Before Willow could comment on this, Oz offered her a hand up, which she took. She was never so grateful to touch him. 

Miss Harkness ran up followed by several other witches. She paused to catch her breath. “That was most unusual.”

“Which part?” Willow asked.

“The blood and the seal and those creatures coming out of the ground,” Miss Poppy said, her eyes wide as saucers.

Willow held her sore ribcage and leaned on Oz. “You mean, that wasn’t part of the evaluation?”

“We always monitor these things. Those creatures were. . . not of our making. It appears to be some sort of communication. This was not intended to happen, and I’m very sorry that we did not pull you out sooner.” 

Giles appeared then, his face grim. “And there’s that phrase again. Looks like I need to have a chat with the Council about this.”

“And to come back to Sunnydale sooner?” Buffy asked with concern and a hint of hope. 

“There is no time to waste.” Giles eyed Spike who was standing again and clutching his umbrella. “Keep Spike close. Whatever this is seems to be using him as a messenger of some sort.”

Buffy touched Spike’s arm as he shook and stared straight ahead. “Agreed.” She addressed Spike with compassion. “You’re staying at Casa Summers.” 

He gave Buffy a grateful smile.

Witnessing them gave Willow the courage to turn to Oz. “Will you come to Sunnydale? We need you.” She shook her head. “I need you.”

Oz gazed at her with a small smile of his own. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

Willow wasn’t sure she was ready for all the hope and possibility she saw in his eyes, but she was sure ready to see what could happen. He’d already taught her so much, and she had no doubt, he’d continue. 

* * *

_Part Four, Three days later_

Oz couldn’t remember the last time he’d entered the Summers residence. He knew Mrs. Summers had been alive and vibrant in her welcoming warmth. He could still detect her scent as he brought in his and Willow’s bags. 

Oz was always watching, and as he set the luggage next to the stairs, he watched as Willow embraced Xander, who had had to stay in town for his job. Dawn hugged Buffy, and then, had a mini-standoff with Spike. The vampire wasn’t making eye contact again, and Oz heard him apologize to Dawn. Then, they were hugging, too. 

With the hint of a smile on his lips, Oz realized he could have felt like he didn’t belong in the midst of all these reunions, but to his surprise, it felt. . . right.

Dawn bounced over to him and gave him a big hug. Her bright eyes shone with a new maturity. “I missed you. But I understand.” Then, she added with a little childlike impudence, “I’m lots taller than last time you saw me.”

Oz chuckled. “I can see that.”

“Oz, my man!” Xander said next, holding out his hand and then giving in and embracing Oz instead. “Welcome home. It’s nice to see you. Willow said you might be bunking down with me at my apartment for the time being.”

Oz didn’t have the heart to correct the saying. “Yeah.” 

“Don’t worry. It’s not a basement. It’s a full-fledged, grown-up apartment with more than one room and an actual kitchen with a working oven.” Xander sounded proud, but Oz also detected the touch of loneliness. 

“You don’t have to sell it to me. I’m grateful for a place to lay my head.” 

“I mean, unless you’re staying with Willow.” 

Oz’s eyes roved toward Willow. She smiled at him and gave him a little wave reminiscent of her shy flirting in high school. “We aren’t – ” 

Buffy swooped in seemingly out of nowhere. She leaned back on her heals as she crossed her arms. “Living situation? All here, all the time. With whatever’s out there about to ‘devour’ us, we need to stick together. And that includes Spike.” 

“What about Anya?” Xander asked with a hint of challenge in his voice. 

“I think we should invite her, too. You may not have married her, but she’s still one of ours.” Buffy softened then. “Have you heard from her?”

“Off and on. When I can get her to return my calls.” 

“Call her again,” Buffy insisted. “We need her safe.” 

“I should probably tell my parents to get out of dodge,” Oz said. His parents were still in Sunnydale. His mom always wrote letters wherever he was, and his dad was quiet but supportive in their regular phone calls, offering only a nugget every now and again. He didn’t want anything to happen to them.

“Probably a good idea.” She looked pointedly at Xander. “Your parents, too.” 

“I don’t think my parents will listen to me,” Xander said with a shrug. “But I’ll try my mom.” 

Dawn breezed by on her way to the kitchen. Oz had almost forgotten her penchant for serving snacks to everyone. She sang out, “Pretty soon, we’re going to be all stuck together again in this house. Same as before.”

Oz frowned. Dawn was obviously talking about something he’d missed. Before he could sort it out, Willow appeared at his elbow. He’d seen her head upstairs with her bag, and now, she was back and picking up his. She touched his forearm. “Let’s get you settled in.”

Lines were being drawn, and Oz wasn’t sure what to make of them. 

Spike headed toward the kitchen, too, with a pile of blankets from the closet. Oz remembered that they were the blankets Willow and Buffy like to cozy up under while they watched movies together in high school. It had been one of those nights when they’d let him and Xander pick the film. The girls had spent the movie snuggled up together, eating popcorn and giggling when Jaws ate someone new while Xander lamented their lack of seriousness. 

Spike’s words broke Oz out of his reverie. “I’m headed to the basement. Sun’ll be up soon.” 

Buffy’s brushed his arm as she gathered a couple of blankets from him. “Let me help.” There was still a wall there. Oz could understand why, but he also knew walls were meant to be climbed even if it took time to find the right way to climb them. 

Willow then took Oz by the hand to lead him – most certainly not to hold hands with him – up the stairs. “You can stay with me, but no funny business I’m not ready for.” 

Oz smiled. “Slow and steady now.”

“Slow and steady.” 

* * *

“Can’t sleep either?” Willow asked Buffy without looking up from the living room TV.

Buffy continued to descend the stairs in the darkness. “No. Anya is kind of a sprawler. Tell me why I offered to share my bed with her?”

“Because Xander and Oz are camped out on the air mattress in my room?” Willow said brightly as she muted the movie. 

“Snoring?”

Willow nodded. “It’s like a chorus of snores.”

“I could hear it, too. Xander or Oz?”

“Not Oz. Xander. I used to be used to it.” Willow’s eyes rounded a little as Buffy sank onto the sofa next to her. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” Buffy reassured her. 

Willow could tell her friend had something on her mind. “Tell me.”

“We’ve talked a lot.” 

“Yeah.” Willow knew the heart-to-hearts on the phone were healing for her and Buffy’s relationship. 

Buffy studied her fidgeting fingers. “But it’s different having you home.”

Willow swallowed, pulling up the one blanket Spike had left behind. “I know.”

Buffy smiled at her almost shyly. “It was empty without you.”

A breath of relief escaped Willow’s lips, and her grip on the blanket loosened. “It didn’t feel right without you either.” 

Buffy drew her legs up on the sofa and took Willow’s offer to share the blanket. “How does it feel to have Oz here? I still can’t believe he just showed up.”

“And with Spike. . . Spike with a soul.”

With a little glare, Buffy corrected Willow. “We were talking about Oz.”

Leaning back on the sofa with a sigh, Willow said, “If I’m being honest, I still love him. But I still love Tara, too.” The challenges reminded her of that much. “And that’s not fair to Oz.” She gave Buffy a wry smile. “Isn’t it ironic that anytime Oz comes into my life, I’m mooning over someone I can’t have?”

“So, are you saying Oz can’t ever be your person?”

Willow shook her head. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying the me inside is still too fragile to be what he deserves. I did a lot of bad things, starting with bringing you – ”

Buffy held up a hand. “We talked about this. I’m fine. . . no, I’m glad you brought me back. Stop with the beating yourself up.”

“Only if you do the same,” Willow contended, lifting both eyebrows to punctuate her statement. 

There was Buffy’s patented eyeroll only with a touch of amusement. “Touché.” Now, she sagged back next to Willow. “I get the fragile insides thing.” Willow waited for her friend to continue. “The things that happened between Spike and me on top of the heavy case of trauma and depression. . . I’m not exactly sure how I feel about him either.” Buffy hugged her ribcage. “He went out and earned a soul, so he would never cross a line with me again. But the thing is? We crossed lots of lines with each other. I did a lot of the crossing. And I don’t really know how to go about setting up healthier lines with him or even what those lines look like.”

“You’ve been talking to him a lot,” Willow nudged.

“Yeah. That’s been easier than I thought. But seeing him in person. . . ”

“Is like it is when you see Angel?” Willow asked. “‘Hello to the pain’?”

“No!” Buffy said a little too loudly. Her eyes widened in alarm at what she had done. They waited several seconds, and when it was clear that no one was up, Buffy kept going, “No, Spike and I were never like Angel. I’ve been my ugliest with Spike, and I guess he’s been that with me. Beyond that, there’s something with him that’s honest and real. Not like with Angel or Riley. Different. And I don’t know if that’s what. . . I just know Spike was there for me when I was really in a bad place. He screwed it up because he’s a vampire, but I-I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and before we went to that bad place, there was something with him. And he has a soul now and he’s hurting, and I want to be there for him. But should I be? Ugh, why does it have to be so complicated?” 

“Trust me when I say how much I get the complicated. Oz has been there for me the last several weeks. I-I told him everything I did – all the messy, messed up stuff I did last year. The stuff with magic and power, the stuff with Warren after Tara died. I owe him a lot. He’s been there with me, helping me sort out my relationship with magic. He taught me some things that help. Not all of them have been all that helpful given my particular struggles. And yet. . . ”

“He still hurt you. A lot. I haven’t forgotten the aftermath of Oz.”

Willow lifted an eyebrow. “I made you fall in love with Spike. I didn’t mean to.” 

Buffy laughed softly and then sobered. “You were really hurt by what Oz did.”

“Same as you were hurt by Spike.”

“We deserve better,” Buffy noted, staring at spot on the carpet.

“We do. They’re both here though.” Willow emulated Buffy’s mile-long stare.

“That says something.”

“It does.” Willow gazed over at Buffy. “What?”

“That we can’t get rid of them even if we want to?”

Willow laughed this time. “Is it bad to think that it’s a good thing they’re around when we have this bad force thing threatening to consume us from below?”

“It’ll give us more time to sort out our feelings,” Buffy said. “Speaking of feelings. . . I’m so glad that you’re here and on the mend.”

Willow’s heart felt warm. “Thanks. Same goes for you. And we’ll face this thing together.” 

“The guy thing or the evil thing? ‘Cause those creatures were – ”

“Terrifying,” Willow filled in. “And both. We’ll deal with both together. And the thing with our insides.”

With that, Willow found herself hugging Buffy, drinking in her best friend’s healing touch. She knew she had a long way to go in dealing with what she had done, and she was still shaky and scared, but with the people she loved, including Oz, she knew the journey ahead would be possible. 

_The end._  
_1-30-21_  
_Midnight_

**Author's Note:**

> There are a couple of quotes from the show in this fic.  
> "From beneath you, it devours."  
> "Hello to the pain."


End file.
